


looking out for you

by Reachingplacebo



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Kiss, M/M, Student Wade, Teacher Peter, Teacher-Student Relationship, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reachingplacebo/pseuds/Reachingplacebo
Summary: Peter is a high school chemistry teacher, Wade is too old for high school but he’s still there.or the story of how Wade blackmailed his teacher into going on a Valentine's Day date with him.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Kudos: 47





	looking out for you

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by 00's rom-coms and their related soundtracks!
> 
> Peter is 28 in this, and Wade is 21 (he's not a very smart boy, or is he?), so if you're uncomfortable with that age gap don't read.

“Mr. Wilson, I don’t know how you did it but you flunked the test… again” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes and forced himself not to sigh. Immediate signs of disapproval like sighing, rolling one's eyes, or screaming at the sky in exasperation could directly affect a student’s self-esteem. Most students anyway, Peter doubted Wilson would even bat an eye if Peter threw himself across the desk right now and grabbed him by the front of that ridiculously big hoodie to scream in his face.

“I’ve told you to call me Wade, just like I call you Peter.”

“And I’ve told you to call me Mr. Parker.”

“Oh, assertive. I like that.”

Wade’s test wrinkled in the corners from the pressure Peter applied to it.

“Mr. Wilson, we are here to discuss your test, not name preferences,” Peter put the test down and pointed at the measly 5/60. “you got… How did you get these questions wrong? They’re true or false, if you put false the first time why would you put false again?”

“I don’t know, maybe it like changed,” Wade shrugged.

“Chemistry is chemistry,” Peter tried to explain, “it doesn’t change, it’s constant.”

“Nah, think like physics, Pe- Mr. Parker, y’know if they find anything faster than the speed of light then all physics we know today would crumble. What if they made that discovery in chemistry?”

Peter gaped, slightly surprised that Wade knew that. Then again, he had always had a hunch that Wade was smarter than he was letting on, and wondered briefly if the man only stayed in high-school to sell weed to other students. For whatever reason Wade decided to keep attending high school at twenty-one Peter would admit he felt sort of sorry for him. Peter had only worked there for a half year so far, but Wade didn’t seem to have any friends and nobody seemed to particularly enjoy hanging out with him. Peter would always catch him alone behind some dumpsters or on the basketball court, teaching himself how to dunk, during long breaks.

“Made you speechless, huh? Isn’t that worth giving me a few extra points for?” Wade leaned forward and the chair beneath him creaked as it shifted its weight onto its front legs.

“Listen, Mr. Wilson” Peter took off his glasses and set them down. “you have the potential to excel in this subject, I’ve heard you speak in class, and during lab experiments, you’re very attentive and always get textbook results. So how come you can’t even balance formulas properly on written tests?”

Wade began to fidget with his sleeves, “I don’t know.”

Peter picked the test up and put it beneath his desk on top of the others. He folded his hands in front of him.

“Do you have trouble with reading and, or writing?”

“Duh, yeah.”

“Have you considered that you might have dyslexia?”

Wade shook his head and tapped his forehead with a bitten nail, “Already did an assessment, nothing wrong with my head.”

Peter leaned back in his chair and scraped his chin with a finger.

“How about some private tutoring then? What other subjects are you failing?”

“All of them.”

It felt like a stack of bricks had been dropped on Peter’s head.

“All of them? There is not one subject you have an E in?”

Wade scrunched his face up as he thought, “I have it in English, but that’s just because Mr. Summers hates me and wants me to graduate as soon as possible so I can get out of his class.”

Another sigh became strangled in Peter’s throat. He tried to distract himself by playing with a dry ballpoint pen he found in his breast-pocket.

“Well, I originally planned to help you study the subjects you were failing but considering the amount— wait, how are you failing physical education? Isn’t it enough to be present for a passing grade?”

Peter realized halfway through that he had already answered his question.

“I don’t show up.”

“I figured. Start to,” Peter demanded, “Mr. Odinson is forgiving, kind of. He’ll give you a D if you participate.”

“What if I don’t? You’re gonna spank me?”

Peter deflated. He wanted to sigh again, for different reasons this time. He didn't know why he was bothering with this, why he couldn't simply let Wade fail like the rest of his teachers before him had. Maybe Wade needed someone to be in his corner for once.

“I’ll be disappointed, Mr. Wilson” He pointed the pen’s tip at Wade’s face.

“My mom already does that one. Try again.”

“If you don’t do it I’ll talk to the principal and have you expelled.”

“What? You can’t do that!... Can you?”

“Well, actually no,” Peter began and Wade relaxed, “but I know you’re selling that weed-drug to other students.”

“It’s just called weed, Mr. Parker,” Wade explained professionally and then added in a half scream “wait… are you blackmailing me into getting good grades?!”

“I’m blackmailing you into getting any grades at all.”

“ _Well,_ ” he copied Peter’s tone, “we’ll see about that.”

Peter never imagined he would make a habit of picking up strangers in bars, always thought of himself as too socially inept to be capable of doing anything like it. But since his last boyfriend broke up with him and he had cried his heart out to MJ over the phone, every night at three am for three weeks straight, although the bastard had put him back six-hundred dollars, Peter wasn’t that enthusiastic about another relationship.

He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he shaved and wondered what part of his face had spelled out “use me, please” to all people he had been romantically involved with for the last five years.

Johnny approached him first, all soft smiles and sharp eyes, and offered to buy him a drink. They talked a little, Johnny worked in human resources for some small business, and had a few more drinks. Peter couldn’t feel his ears or toes as he downed the sixth one. By the time the sun had set they were fumbling their way out of the backdoor, into a private alley, Peter’s hands pulling at Johnny’s jacket and Johnny digging his fingers into Peter’s ass. They almost slipped on the frozen patches down the stairs but managed to steady themselves against the wall opposite the exit. Luckily overflowing dumpsters didn’t smell as much in cold weather.

Peter brushed his cheek against Johnny, “I want you to fuck me; want to feel your big cock in my—“

“Peter! I mean Mr. Parker!”

Peter turned his head around so fast had he not seen what he saw he would worry about giving himself whiplash. He felt his face heat.

“Mr. Wilson, what are you doing here on a school night?!”

Perhaps that wasn’t the appropriate response when meeting one of your students in the alley behind a gay bar judging by the way Johnny slowly began to pull his fingers away. Peter couldn’t care less at the moment, he was a chemistry teacher first and a sad, lonely, horny man second.

“I could ask you the same,” Wade said with his hands on his hips like an aggregated mother. He was wearing one of his usual large hoodies, a huge stain at the front, a pair of dirty Adidas sweatpants that sagged to the point where the crotch was just above his knees and topped off with an unfitting, off-brand North Face winter jacket in muddy green.

“This is my personal time and so it is none of your business” Peter defended himself.

Johnny was gone.

“That’s what I’m doing too. Personal things,” Wade replied and crossed his arms with a theatrical huff, “that you can’t know about.”

“Your entire jacket smells like weed,” Peter mentioned pointedly.

“What about it?”

“Why are you selling weed outside of a gay bar?”

“Well, I need to broaden my customer circle,” Wade explained, “but so far I haven’t had much luck.”

Peter was too tired, too blue-balled, to care, he even doubted marijuana’s popularity in the LGBT community. Snowflakes were beginning to stick to his eyelashes and he wanted to get home before the roads were covered.

“Good luck with that, Mr. Wilson. I’ll see you in class.”

Peter turned around and walked to his car. He knew that he shouldn’t be driving right now given that he had just downed six cocktails in a row, but being caught with another man’s hand on your ass by a dumpster by one of your students really possessed the ability to sober you up.

“So you like dick, huh?” Wade shouted suddenly as Peter was halfway down the alley.

Peter figured it was ok to sigh since they weren’t actually in school anymore and Wade wouldn’t be able to hear him with his back facing him.

“And here I thought I’d have to borrow the cheerleaders uniform to persuade you to give me a better grade.”

Peter turned around, “They would never lend it to you.”

“I wouldn’t ask them obviously.”

Peter pinched his nose, “I would expel you for stealing if you did that.”

“Listen, about that,” Wade fidgeted again, “are you really gonna do it? Like expel me if I don’t get good- get grades? Because we could fix this, maybe make an arrangement. I don’t know how similar it is but I’ve done anal on girls before and you said you wanted dick in your—“

Peter pressed his hands against Wade’s mouth, out of breath after sprinting to close the distance between them, almost slipping on garbage puddles in the process.

“Mr. Wilson, that is not appropriate,” He gasped, “you’ll get acceptable grades or you will be expelled. End of conversation.”

Wade licked his palm and Peter pulled his hand back with a grimace.

“Can you at least drive me home?” Wade asked, “I accidentally wrecked my car.”

Peter wanted to say no. What he wanted to do was go home, take a warm bath, and have a nice wank which would all be delayed if he had to drive Wade home. _But Wade is our student! It’s snowing, who knows what could happen to him if he has to walk alone?_ the Angel on his shoulder reasoned, his tiny brows furrowed in concern. _He could fuck us in the backseat_ , the devil opposite him added. Peter waved them into thin air.

“Fine” he agreed on the persuasion of the Angel.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver” Wade beamed as he followed him to the car.

It was a red Volkswagen Golf Mk3 that stood parked within a five-minute walking distance. Peter did every trick he knew, short of vomiting, to become a little soberer. Wade crawled into the passenger seat without tapping the snow off his shoes first and Peter silently repeated to himself that it was alright, it was just water after all. Garbage water.

“Nice car you got,” Wade commented and seemed genuine. He ran his broad hands across the dashboard. Dust collected on his fingertips.

“Thank you, it belonged to my ex” Peter pulled out of his parking spot without switching on the indicator.

Wade gave him a few driving instructions but besides that, they rode in silence.

Peter rolled to a stop outside a tall, brown-greyish building built with bare bricks. It was one of many houses developed for ex-convicts to receive a second chance at civilian life, but had since its honorable origins in the 1970s became cramped with squatters, fugitives, and down on their luck junkies. He’d read it in the papers numerous times, women’s bruised bodies covered in white sheets and wheeled out by two nurses through the front porch, or the graphic photograph of a man’s collapsed veins from telling bruises on the inside of his thigh.

“You live here?” Peter asked quietly. He bent his head to get a better look at the houses, worn down and covered in graffiti tags.

“Yeah, my mother and I,” Wade told Peter as he struggled with the door, “Uh-“

“Sorry” Peter turned off the locks and the door swung open, almost striking a disheveled cat that lapped at the opening of an empty glass bottle.

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Parker. Have a good night.”

Peter nodded, “Same to you.”

Peter came home and took a shower, not even slightly horny anymore. He thought about Wade as he massaged shampoo into his roots. His uncle and aunt had never been rich enough to afford a nice house, like the ones main characters from New York City lived in, but it had been infinitely better than where Wade lived. It suddenly made a little more sense why Wade was the way he was.

“The offer still stands.”

“I’m not going to fuck you, Mr. Wilson,” Peter said without taking his eyes off the papers in front of him. He drew a little smiley-face in the corner of a student’s test. Excellent work, Ethan.

“How come Ethan gets a smiley and I don’t?” Wade complained.

“Maybe because Ethan has a passing grade?”

Wade fell back into his chair opposite Peter’s, “I bet my dick is bigger though.”

Peter gripped his pen tighter. He almost didn’t want to --couldn’t-- believe that Wade was a day over twenty when he barely had the speech and mannerism of a boy over sixteen years old.

“Focus on the questions I gave you instead,” Peter pointed at the assignment in front of him.

Silence followed and with any other student Peter would’ve been sure that they had begun balancing formulas and calculating the pH in acids, Wade was most likely balancing his pencil between his upper lip and nose.

“Mr. Parker, you’re alone this Valentine’s Day, right?”

Peter lifted his head in time to catch Wade’s pen slipping from his philtrum and into his hand.

“Why do you ask?”

“Cus’ you mentioned that the car was your ex’s so I figured you’re single. I’m single too. We should do something.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you could take out?”

“Nah, I want you.”

Peter would lie if he said he didn’t feel his cheeks turn an unflattering red at that. He cleared his throat pointedly.

“I’m your teacher, that’d be inappropriate.”

“Come on. I’ll pick you up, take you to one of those fancy rooftop places downtown that academics like yourself get your panties in a twist over. I pay, of course,” Wade licks his dry lips nervously, “and then we could go to yours, or mine but my mom is probably home so that’ll be awkward, and I’ll fuck you through the mattress. What do you say?”

“I thought you wrecked your car?”

Wade shrugged, “Not really, just wanted to spend some time with you.”

Peter was almost out of motivation to not sigh, “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline.”

“Either you let me take you out on Valentine’s Day or I’m telling the principal you like dick.”

Peter’s pen stilled over the paper. It was illegal to fire someone only on the grounds of their sexual orientation, either Wade was unaware of this or he knew that Principle Jameson wouldn’t hesitate to fabricate a valid reason to sack Peter. Whether it was the first or second one, he didn’t want to find out.

Peter buried his face in his hands and his glasses slid into his hair. He let out a pathetic laugh at the situation he found himself in before he raised his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Wade over his fingers.

“Are you blackmailing me into going on a date with you?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Wade had tried but still came up short. He looked like a fish out of the water when they arrived at the restaurant.

“Sir, I am afraid we are fully booked,” the gaunt waiter in the entrance told them slowly, regarding Wade’s red, velvet suit jacket matched with a pair of clean Adidas sweatpants with distaste.

“No, I have reservations. Look for a Wade Wilson.”

The waiter looked through the paper and his face shriveled as if he had just sucked the sourness out of a lemon when his finger stopped on the name.

“This is a black-tie restaurant” he tried.

“Got it right here” Wade pulled with a thumb at the tie Peter had carefully tied and secured to his white Oxford shirt with a pin in the car before they took the elevator up.

“I apologize on behalf of my nephew. It’s his twentieth birthday so we wanted to celebrate it somewhere nice. I know it’s inconvenient, but please, just this once” Peter spoke up and the waiter looked at him, at the black suit that had obviously been hanging in his closet since graduation, faded into a slight grey and a bit too short in the sleeves. Peter had bothered to use contact lenses instead of glasses. He wrestled Wade’s telling hand from his waist.

“Nephe—“

Peter stepped on Wade’s large sneaker with the heel of his dress shoe.

The waiter curled his hand into a fist, “Excuse the delay, right this way, sir”

The restaurant was much larger than what the sight from the entrance would suggest. An airy, open space filled with sleek dark tables and chairs and a small gathering of diamond tufted leather sofas and loveseats in the corner closest to the entrance. It offered a nice view over the business district and East River through the floor-to-ceiling glasses, Peter imagined he saw Hampton on the distant horizon, beneath the setting sun.

“Speechless again? I told you I’d take you somewhere nice” Wade whispered to him as the waiter navigated them between the tables.

The waiter begrudgingly seated them next to one of the windows.

Half of the menu was in French, the other in Portuguese and a third of the wines were from Australia. The waiter physically cringed when Wade referred to the nashi pear and honey sorbet as mumble-jumble vanilla ice cream.

“I’m still hungry. What a fucking rip-off,” Wade complained loudly in the elevator down, “and that vanilla ice cream tasted nothing like vanilla.”

“The wine was good though” Peter commented, pleasantly tipsy and studying his image in the mirror beside the buttons. He wiped away a small wine stain on the corner of his lips.

Wade tilted his head back until it hit the wall with a thud, “Too bad I’m the designated driver. The alcohol-free stuff tasted like someone pissed in a bucket, let it stand in the kitchen for a week and then served it to me.”

Peter chuckled at the parable and looked up at Wade. He looked different without a hood pulled down and shadowing half of his face. A red burn mark covered most of his cheek, ate its way over his ear and down his neck. His hair was blonde, cut short and messy, but not unattractive, although Peter could spot clumps of hair gel caught in some of the strands. He looked good, Peter thought, ruggedly handsome with a boyish charm.

“Your fault for blackmailing me into this.”

He wasn’t even thinking, too busy enjoying the simmering buzz of alcohol in his veins to notice that his fingers had stretched out and intertwined themself with Wade’s. He absent-mindedly caressed Wade’s knuckles as they walked to the car.

They stopped in a McDonald’s drive-through on the way home and hurriedly ate in front of red traffic lights as they drove around southern Manhattan in the dark. Wade dribbled curry dip on the front of his suit jacket, scrambling to push the gear into second, and Peter crumbled empty hamburger wrappers and stuffed them into his pants pockets.

When they rolled up to his apartment building Peter realized with an exasperated groan that he had forgotten to turn his living room light off. He pushed himself out of the car, only half as tipsy as he had felt in the elevator, but equally pleased.

“Thanks for the ride, and the food.”

“No, thank you” Wade rolled down his window, “Uh- For letting me take you out I mean. I had fun.”

Peter leaned against the car roof, peering down through the open window. Wade fidgeted behind the wheel.

“I’ll see you in school on Monday, Mr. Parker,” he said and made no attempt to start the car. He fidgeted with the button on the shirt-sleeve that poked out beneath his red suit jacket as he looked at Peter expectantly. Peter sighed, small and warm; if Wade wanted him so bad he’d throw him a bone. He leaned down and kissed the side of the man’s lips. Wade turned his head to chase his mouth and Peter let himself be kissed. He bent his arms, tilted his head into the kiss, and licked Wade’s mouth open. For a moment everything was alright with the world.

A group of teenage girls in clicking heels walked past, giggling among themselves.

Peter pulled back, trying to look suave despite the growing color in his cheeks.

“Right, and you better come on time for your first class, Wade.”

Wade nodded, looking as embarrassed and happy as Peter felt.

“Ye-Yessir, I promise.”

Peter fell asleep in his suit, on top of the covers, feeling hot despite the cold outside, and dreamt of large hoodies and Adidas sweatpants.

**Author's Note:**

> english is not my first, or second, language but hope ya enjoyed it anyway!


End file.
